


That Time Pam Did Her Part to Aid the War Effort

by VintageManniqueen



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: 1940s, Pin-Up, WWII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 22:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VintageManniqueen/pseuds/VintageManniqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1940's pin-up Pam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time Pam Did Her Part to Aid the War Effort

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own True Blood or the SVM books.

Fangs made a tantalizingly slow descent into place with a "click."  The proud bearer admired her reflection, gliding her pink tongue over the fine points with a smug look of self-satisfaction.  Her head tilted back slightly and she pushed her chest outward subtly, striking a pose of eerie confidence.

The young vampire primped in the mirror for what seemed to the man waiting outside the door to have been hours- an eternity for a busy man with more than one grinny blonde to cross off his list in those early, seedy hours of the new A.M.

She gave a glance to the makeup on her face and on the back of her stocking-less legs.  She had fantastic legs, with or without them.  In fact, she had a fantastic everything.  It would be a shame to waste nearly a century's worth of beauty in a time such as this, a fast and booming time that made her dead heart want to beat furiously.

The man rapped on the door with several sharp knocks. "I coulda plucked all the hairs off my ass by now, Toots." 

The door opened in a quick flash that went unnoticed by the man, who was adjusting a tripod in the middle of a hastily cleared-out room. 

"FInally," he grumbled.  He gestured toward a stool in the middle of the room, his head already beneath a black cloth.

She sashayed across the room in an amazing way (it was a shame the man missed it, really) on heels that cost _much_ more than a pair of silk stockings.  But no one would have known, no one looking at a girlie picture, at least.  She perched herself expertly on the stool, leaning back on her hands and grinning, head tilted, exactly as she'd practiced in the mirror. But of course, she'd retracted her fangs. 

The camera man whistled.  "YES. That's a good girl, sweetheart," he cooed, stunned. And with a flurry of snaps and adjustments and a few unnecessary words of encouragement, the image of a striking blonde became the Reason to Live for thousands of boys overseas, and the last comfort of life to thousands of poor, unlucky bastards in trenches somewhere in enemy forces.  Little did they know that the stunner broad with the _killer_ assets posed a greater threat to them on the home front. 

 


End file.
